Waves
by Vinividivinci
Summary: When you are least expecting it, a wave of pain can creep up on you and knock you over. A happy moment turns into one of agony for Jane.
1. Chapter 1

_**I've been away for a while - moving my self to California and starting a new job. Hopefully now I'll have some time to write!**_

 _ **No copy-write infringement intended. None of the characters are mine**_

 _ **Patrick**_

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm going for tea. Want anything?"

"Mmm – yes please. Bring me some juice and – oh, anything you can. I'm starving." She laughed, her eyes still glued to the tiny child held in her arms. "Having a baby makes you hungry."

Fortunately she didn't give him more than a quick glance as he left the room. He was grateful for her attention on the – on _him_ – because Patrick was about to lose it.

He made his way down the hallway, looking for somewhere he could go, somewhere he could hide. He needed to find it quickly, before he fell completely apart.

He saw a door marked "Supplies" and breathed out in relief. Without pausing he pushed it open and entered quickly. Once inside the dark room he fell against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor and then he buried his face in his hands.

The sobs started almost immediately, shaking his body with paroxysms of guilt and grief and fear. _Why_ had he thought he could do this? _Why_ had he thought he could be a father again, have a family again? _Why_ had he thought that he could risk his heart, once more, and love again?

He had killed them, his wife and daughter. His arrogance, his conceit, his hubris had killed those two, beautiful, innocent beings – the two best things in his life. Yet here he was now, forgetting them, forgetting his shame and moving on, as if they were nothing.

And to add to his guilt was the fact that he _looked_ like her. He'd taken one look into those eyes and he had felt their searing indictment. He had killed his child – what gave him the right to have another?

He sobbed harder, his arms wrapped around his knees, his face pressed into them as if to protect himself from any more of the pain or guilt that was breaking over him. It was like a relentless wave that wouldn't stop, wouldn't cease. It was a wave of acid, burning into his soul and his heart.

What was he to do? He couldn't go back in there, couldn't see that face, those eyes of that child. He couldn't bear to see Teresa look at him with disappointment, with blame when she realized he was not the father she needed for her child. He'd promised her that he would never leave her again, that he'd stay and love her. But now – how could he stay when he knew that would destroy another beautiful woman and child?

He pressed his head harder into his knees, wishing, hoping that somehow he could dissolve, that he could disappear. He wished, at that moment, that he had not walked into the life of Teresa Lisbon all those years ago.

 _ **Kimball**_

"Is that Jane?" Wylie asked his companion and boss.

"Hmm?" Cho answered, trying to rearrange the gift bag and balloon in his hands.

"At the end of the hallway there – isn't that Jane?"

Cho lifted his head just in time to see Jane push open a door and then disappear. He frowned. Something about that had seemed – wrong. "Yeah, it was."

"Oh – I thought so. Here's Teresa's room," he said happily, about to walk in. It was only Cho's hand on his arm that stopped him.

"Uh – I think I'm going to go see how Jane's doing," Cho told him. "Tell Teresa I'll be there in a minute. And here – take these."

"Uh – do you want me to give them to her?" the young agent asked hesitatingly.

"Yeah – just tell her they're from us. I'll be back."

Cho turned and hurried down the hallway, for some reason convinced that something was off. He'd learned to read Jane over the years and something had struck him as wrong about the way the man had moved.

He came to the room where he had seen Jane disappear and was even more convinced there was a problem. There was no way Jane would need to go into a supply room in the hospital.

He slowly opened the door, his eyes trying to readjust to the darkness. "Jane?" At first there was silence, but then he heard breathing. "Jane, it's Cho." He stepped into the room and let the door close behind him. It took a few seconds before he could see well enough to find the person he was looking for – huddled against the wall on the floor of the storage room.

Cho frowned and quickly stepped forward. "What's wrong? Jane, speak to me. What's happened?" The agent had a sudden bolt of fear. Oh God – what if something had happened to Teresa or the baby? "Jane – are Teresa and -"

"They're fine," Jane gasped out, his breathing hitched as if he'd been running or – crying – thought Cho.

"Jane – what is it?" Cho walked over and slowly sat beside his friend. By then he could see more clearly and it was evident that Jane was upset – extremely upset. "Hey – what's going on?"

Jane just shook his head and Cho was shocked to see the tears streaming down the consultant's face. His hair was wild, as if he'd been pushing his hands through it, and his clothing was all rumpled and his shirt hung outside his pants. Of course some of this was probably because Jane had been up all night at the birth of his son – but that something else was going on was obvious.

"Hey – tell me what's going on Jane. Why are you so upset? You're sure it's not Teresa or the baby?"

There was a moment of silence, when it appeared that Jane had stopped breathing, but then he looked up, his eyes meeting Cho's. "He looks like her," was all he said.

Cho frowned again, this time in confusion. "What? Who looks like whom?"

"He looks like her," Jane continued. "As soon as I saw him – I knew. How could I Cho? How could I just forget her like that, forget _them_ like that? He looks just like her."

Kimball was good at reading people – at least he could read most criminals – but he tried, as much as possible, to avoid reading or interfering in the personal lives of his friends and colleagues. But he realized, at that moment, that Jane was in crisis and that he needed a friend. He took a breath, knowing that right here, right now Jane needed him to say and do the right thing. It was a huge responsibility, but that didn't matter. Patrick was his friend.

"Do you mean the baby?" he asked gently. He saw Jane's small nod and sighed. "And he looks like - ?"

"Charlotte," Jane whispered. "He looks like Charlotte. He's got her mouth and face and – eyes. He's got her eyes."

Cho nodded. They should all have thought of this, been prepared for this. But Jane had been so excited, so happy that none of them thought about what seeing his sone for the first time might do to him. "Of course he does," he said carefully. "He's her brother."

"No," Jane shook his head. "He can't be. She's dead – I killed her." His head dropped down to again rest on his knees. "They're both dead, Angie and Charlotte."

Kimball briefly closed his eyes and said a little prayer. He wasn't a particularly religious man, but at this moment he knew he needed help. He suddenly wished that Grace were here. She was much better at this emotional stuff than he was.

"You didn't – and you know you didn't. She was killed by Red John. You know you can't take the blame for what that sadist did."

"How could I forget her – _them_? How could I Cho?" Jane answered, seeming to ignore Cho's words. "What kind of a horrible person am I to forget them?"

"Have you?"

There was more silence but then Jane lifted his head again. "What?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Have you really forgotten them? Do you ever think of Charlotte?"

"I – of course I do."

"And Angela, your wife. What color were her eyes?"

"Brown, they were brown."

"Was she a good mother?"

"Of course!" Jane said, suddenly sounding angry. "She was wonderful. She loved Charlotte. She was teaching her to play the piano when -" he stopped and took a breath. "They would sing together all the time. I remember I loved to come home and find them baking cookies and singing together."

"What was her favorite color?" Cho asked.

"Color?" Jane frowned. "Angela liked blue – ocean blue and sky blue – it's why we moved to Malibu." His face relaxed slightly. "Charlotte liked everything pink – but I think most girls that age do. She was my little princess." His head dropped down and his shoulder began to shake. "She was such a happy little thing," he cried quietly.

Cho reached out and put his hand on Jane's shoulder. "Doesn't sound to me like you've forgotten them at all," he said gently. "I think you remember them really well – and having another baby isn't going to make you forget them, you know. If you say he looks like Charlotte – well, won't that help you remember her even more?"

Cho sat quietly beside his friend as he continued to cry. He didn't know what else to do and was starting to get worried. They'd been in the closet for a long time and he was pretty sure that Teresa would be getting suspicious – and poor Wylie was probably wondering what the hell was going on.

Almost in answer to his thoughts, his phone vibrated. Carefully taking it out of his pocket he looked down to see a text from Wylie.

 **Where are you? Teresa is getting worried.**

He quickly texted back.

 **Storage room, end of hall. Come & don't tell T.**

"Jane – Wylie is going to come and stay with you for a few minutes. I'm going to go see Teresa, okay?"

"I've let her down too," Patrick mumbled, his voice breaking. "I let everyone down. She should have stayed with Pike."

"Don't be ridiculous," Cho answered, his manner becoming, once again brisk and to the point. "She loves you – she's always loved you and you love her. Things are going to be fine! Just _don't_ do anything stupid. I'll be back soon."

He waited until he could see Jane give a small nod and then he got to his feet. A moment later there was a tap on the door and he opened it to see a nervous looking Wylie standing there. With a quick glance back at Jane he left the storage room and closed the door behind him.

"What's going on?" Wylie asked. "Teresa is getting worried. Jane was just supposed to go for tea."

"He's had a bit of a breakdown," Cho said, sounding matter-of-fact. "The baby reminded him of his daughter and it brought up all sorts of emotions he wasn't expecting. Look, I want you to go in there and stay with him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid and _don't_ let him leave. I don't care if you have to sit on him or handcuff him or shoot him in the leg. He can't leave. Can you do that?"

"Uh – yeah – I guess so."

"Look Wylie – this is important. Jane is tricky, you know that. He's also dealing with all sorts of emotions including guilt. I don't want him running off."

"I get it," the young agent nodded and stood up straight. "He won't get past me."

"Good." Cho patted him on the shoulder. "I won't be gone long – I just have to let Teresa know what's happening."

"Should you?" the young man frowned. "I mean, she just had a baby."

"I know," Kimball sighed, "but she's probably already wondering and – if anyone can deal with this, it's her."

With that he turned and headed down the hallway to Teresa's room, praying that she would know what to do.

 _ **Teresa**_

"Cho, where's Jane? What's going on?" Teresa had gone from blissful happiness to worry in the matter of a few minutes.

"Hi Teresa." Cho moved up to the bed and kissed her. "Congratulations! Uh – about Jane – well, he had a bit of an emotional – uh – episode," he answered.

"Emotional – what?" She sat up, rearranging the sleeping baby to her shoulder. "What are you talking about? He was fine just a few minutes ago." Teresa suddenly felt a hot frisson of fear move through her body. She had _thought_ everything was okay, but now she wondered. She hadn't really paid that much attention to Patrick after the midwife had left. Instead she'd been focused totally on their baby – and had simply assumed Jane was as happy as her. "Where is he?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"He's with Wylie," Cho answered. "When he saw the baby – well, he said he reminded him of his daughter. That brought up all sorts of emotions, including guilt. He's having a pretty hard time dealing with it right now."

"Oh God!" she said, throwing off the covers with the hand not holding onto the baby. "I have to go to him."

"Wait, Teresa, you just had a baby. You need to rest."

"I'm fine," she answered. "I'm strong and the birth went just fine. In fact I was just waiting for them to release me. Now tell me where he is!" There was no way she was going to leave her husband to suffer alone – or with Wylie, who was a nice guy but wasn't what Jane needed right now.

"He's down the hall."

"Damn – I need to be there! He's going to do something crazy."

"That's why I left Wylie," Cho explained. "He's under strict orders not to lose him. He'll handcuff him if necessary."

Teresa gave out a half laugh, half sob. Cho knew her husband almost as well as she did. He was tricky but hopefully Wylie would take his job seriously. God – she had to see Jane!

"Here, take the baby," she said, gently holding out their son. "I've got to get dressed."

"Uh – Teresa," Cho answered, his hands suddenly full of newborn baby. "I don't think -"

"He'll be fine. Just let me get a robe on and then I'll put him in the bassinet. You can sit and watch him."

Cho nodded, knowing when he was defeated. Any anyway, Teresa was right – Jane did need her.

A moment later Teresa was done. She carefully took the baby, gave him a gentle kiss, and laid him down in the bassinet. "You stay here with Uncle Cho, sweetheart," she told him. "I'm going to go find that crazy Daddy of yours."

She walked to the door – feeling sore and a little weak, but overall not too bad. "Thank you Kimball."

"You're welcome. He's in the supply closet at the end of the hallway."

"Supply closet?" she asked, her brows raised. Of course he'd be someplace like that.

She walked slowly down the hallway, thinking about Patrick and about how blind she'd been. She should have talked to someone about this, been prepared. How could having another child _not_ affect him? But he'd been so _happy_ , she said to herself. How would anyone know that he'd react like this?

But you should have been prepared, she told herself again. She, more than anyone, knew how closely her husband guarded his heart, how sensitive he really was. He covered it up with bravado and intelligence – and sometimes with his own brand of annoying behavior – but inside he was caring and gentle. He was also a soul who had been practically destroyed and who was still working to put himself back together, to love and to trust again.

And she'd just assumed that they would have the baby and he'd be happy and everything would be perfect. She was an idiot.

She arrived at the door and listened. There was soft murmuring coming from inside so she assumed that Wylie hadn't had to resort to locking Jane up. With a deep breath she reached down and turned the handle.

 _ **Jason**_

After Cho had left Wylie stood looking down at Jane, completely unsure of what to do. He'd never seen the FBI consultant in such a state – although after Vega's death he knew Jane had been upset. But still, it had been nothing like this.

He admired Jane more than almost anyone he knew. He aspired to be like Cho – his boss and mentor. But he knew he could never be like Jane. Jane was brilliant and unconventional and, in many ways, his hero.

Wylie knew what Jane had been through. He'd looked him up as soon as he'd heard about the man who had been a fugitive but whom the FBI had brought back because he was so brilliant. And Jason hadn't just gone into the open records, but he'd done a little snooping beyond that.

Unlike most people he knew that Jane had spent time in a mental hospital. But rather than that reducing Jane in his eyes, he felt even more in awe of the man. He wondered how he could have gone through what he did and not be destroyed. How did Jane spend all his time solving crimes and working for justice when he and his family had suffered so horribly?

Wylie had even seen the crime scene photos – and had immediately gotten sick. He had no idea how Jane could live with those images – bloody, gruesome images of his wife and daughter. It seemed beyond what any human should be asked to withstand.

And yet Jane had gone on to rebuild his life. He'd grasped on to love and happiness in spite of what he'd been though. And again Jason had been in awe.

So looking at Jane now, he knew he could have lost respect for the man – he could have had the image of Patrick Jane smudged because of his breakdown. Instead all he felt was a desire to do something – to do anything he could to help.

He had no idea how.

"Wylie," Jane's voice broke into his thoughts and he looked over to meet the consultant's eyes. "You keeping an eye on me?"

He opened his mouth to deny it, but then remembered this was Jane. "Yes," he answered. "Cho was worried."

"Mmm – you going to shoot me if I try to leave?"

"Yes," Jason answered, once again standing tall.

Jane laughed although it wasn't a happy sound. Instead he let his head rest back on his knees. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere – at least not now."

"We're all here for you Jane," Wylie said softly, "for you and Teresa."

Jane didn't answer.

After that there was quiet in the small, dark room. Jason Wylie cursed himself, wishing there was something he could say or do to help, but realizing there was probably only one person who could do that.

"Jane, I want you to know -"

Just then the door opened and in strode Teresa Lisbon-Jane. Jason breathed a sigh of relief and left quietly as Teresa held the door for him. She gave him a small smile and a "thanks" as he walked by.

 _ **Teresa and Patrick**_

"Teresa!" Jane pushed himself to his feet, stumbling and almost falling in the process. "Damn it – you shouldn't be here. What was Cho thinking?" He put his hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall so as not to fall.

"He was thinking that it was more than his life was worth to try and stop me," she told him. The next moment she walked over and grabbed him and wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm so sorry Patrick," she said into his chest. "So, so sorry."

"Teresa, no!" he said. He slowly reached his arms around – wanting to hold her but not feeling as if he should. "It's me. I – I am the one that's sorry. Damn it – I didn't mean for this to happen. I just – I can't do this! I'm so sorry – forgive me!"

"Forgive you? For what?" she pulled back and looked at him. "For loving Angela and Charlotte so much that having another child is hard? For not being superman and pretending you don't feel the pain? For being a father and husband who has suffered the worst thing imaginable and yet still trying to move on? For being human? God Jane – of _course_ I don't forgive you, because there's nothing to forgive."

"My Teresa," he whispered, his eyes closed.

"We should have realized love," she said softly. "Neither of us thought about how this might affect you and for that I _am_ sorry. It must be so hard to see him -"

"It was when I was holding him," he took a deep breath – interrupted by a hiccup from his crying. "It was then I saw how much he looked like Charlotte and – I lost it. Teresa, I can't -"

"Can't what?" she asked softly, although there was a hint of fear in her voice.

"Be a father again," he said in a rush. "I destroyed my wife and child once. I can't do it a second time."

Teresa pulled back and looked at him, anger shining from her eyes. But it wasn't anger at him – but rather at what had been done to him. "Bull shit! You did _not_ destroy your wife and child. _Red John_ did that. You made some mistakes – but they weren't so serious that they should have died and you know that. You loved them both and you've paid for those mistakes many times over. Now you need to remember them with love –not with guilt."

"I can't be a father," he repeated.

"That's not an option Patrick," she said softly. "You _are_ a father – to a little boy who needs you and who is going to love you. Do you really think he'll do better without you to protect him? Who's going to teach him to charm everyone? Who's going to teach him all about the wonders around him? Who's going to love him like only a father can?"

Patrick let out a soft sob. "But – what if I -"

"What? Make a mistake? You will – we both will – but we'll do everything we can to protect him, to love him. That's all anyone can ask." She stopped talking for a moment and looked at him. Then her eyes narrowed. "But that's not all, is it?"

"What?" he whispered.

"It's not just that you're afraid – you're also feeling guilty." She stopped and waited until she saw him give a small nod.

"I'm sorry," he answered. "He just – he looked at me and they were _her_ eyes," he repeated what he had told Cho. "It was as if she were accusing me of forgetting her."

"Jane, I know you don't believe in an afterlife but I _do_. And I believe that Charlotte is looking down on her little brother and will love and protect him. If you saw her eyes in him – it only means that she is with him, she is _part_ of him. It doesn't mean you are forgetting her – if anything you will remember her more, now that you see her in her brother."

"That's what Cho said," he murmured.

"Well, you'd better listen to him because Cho is a very wise man."

He laughed softly and sadly and rubbed his eyes. "Damn – what am I thinking? You shouldn't be standing. Come on – let's get you back to bed."

"I'm okay – it's you I'm worried about," she told him gently.

He pulled her closer to him at that and buried his head in her hair. "I'll be okay," he told her. "I wasn't expecting this – and we're tired." He leaned back and grinned – it wasn't his usual, full-face grin – but it would do for now. "I'm too old to be up all night watching my wife have a baby."

"Mmm – but it was beautiful, wasn't it?" she asked, her voice showing her fear that this experience which had been so wonderful would now be tainted by his despair.

"It was – the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced," he told her. "Now – let's go and get you settled. And don't worry about me – I'll be fine."

She knew that this wasn't the end, that Patrick wasn't miraculously better – but for now he seemed okay. She slowly walked towards the door, his arm around her, when she stopped abruptly and looked at him.

"What?" he frowned.

"Promise me."

"Promise you what?"

"That you won't leave – that you won't leave us. I can't lose you Patrick."

"Ah love," he murmured, his voice cracking with anguish. He leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss. "I promised before, and I meant it – I will never leave you. But – just be patient with me, okay?"

"Of course," she nodded. "I love you and we'll all be here for you just – don't pull away."

"Never," he whispered into her hair. With that the two of them walked back to her room, where their son waited, watched over by his Uncle Cho.

 _ **I may do a chapter 2 if people are interested. Let me know. Tx**_


	2. Wave of Joy

_**A short conclusion to my story. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and comments. I hope you enjoy!**_

Jane helped Lisbon back to her room – a worried looking Wylie trailing behind. Once he was sure that she was being watched by Cho and his young sidekick, Patrick made his way to the Rest Room to freshen up.

He was still extremely shaky and felt like he was ready to fall apart again at any moment. But he forced himself to hold it together. He had to be there for Teresa – he'd promised her and he was not going to go back on that. He had to somehow learn to deal with what life had given him, although he worried that he would never recapture the happiness he'd felt only a day ago.

He sometimes wished he did believe in an omnipotent being – and then he'd have someone he could rail at and curse. He wanted to blame someone for the situation he was now in, but there _was_ no one. At least there was no one other than himself.

He sighed as he looked at his face in the mirror. He looked so old. His face was blotchy and looked puffy and swollen from all the crying.

He spent the next few minutes bathing his face in cold water, hoping to erase the evidence of his emotional breakdown. There was nothing he could do about his red eyes, but hopefully people would think it was because he was exhausted from having been up all night.

He slowly dried his face with paper towels – ugh – and made his way to the door. He paused, the idea of opening it and walking down the hallway almost more than he could handle. He just wanted to curl up and forget everything.

It was a feeling he'd experienced many times before but had hoped he would never feel again. This utter exhaustion, the inability to do anything, to make any decisions, the near paralysis – he knew all of those things were a sign of abject grief.

But life had to go on. He'd learned that lesson once before too, being forced to live when all he'd wanted to do was die. It was not as severe this time, although the thought of keeping going was something he didn't want to face.

He sighed and slowly reached down for the handle – but before he had a chance to touch it the door swung open, almost hitting him in the face.

"Oh – I'm sorry," a tall man in jeans and a tee-shirt almost bowled him over. "Sorry guy," he said again. "I almost got you there."

"T's'okay," he murmured as he caught the door and made his way outside. He paused and took a long, slow breath. He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

As he walked down the hallway to Teresa's room he noticed that both Cho and Wylie were outside, leaning against the wall. "What's going on?" he asked as he approached.

"Doctor's checking her out," Cho answered. "You can go in."

He didn't want to – and that made him a terrible husband. He wanted to stay out in the hall with Jason and Kimball and pretend that there was no one he knew on the other side of that door. He especially didn't want to think about _him._

"What are you waiting for?" Cho asked him knowingly.

With a sharp glance and a deep sigh he pushed the door open and walked in.

"I'm sorry, you can't come in -" the doctor started to say but Teresa interrupted him.

"It's okay Doctor – this is my husband. Jane, this is Dr. Reiser."

"Hi. Sorry about that Doctor – had to go to the bathroom."

"That's fine Mr. Jane."

"How is she?" he asked the doctor, his eyes intentionally not looking at the bassinet.

"She's doing well," the doctor smiled. "And since your son is also healthy you can take your family home now."

"Thank you," he nodded at the doctor as she left the room and then turned to Teresa. "You ready to go home now?"

"Yes – can you grab my clothes," she asked. For the next few moments things were silent as he helped her dress."

"The car seat?" she asked after a moment.

"I asked Cho to bring it up. I'll check to see if he's back."

He stood back while Teresa put the baby into the car seat, feeling ashamed and angry at himself. He couldn't even handle looking at his own son.

Cho refused to let him drive – which was probably smart. He wasn't exactly feeling his best. Instead the agent drove them both, letting Wylie drive their car. Jane sat in the front while Teresa sat in the back with the car seat beside her.

Once they'd arrived home she went straight to bed, taking the baby with her. Jane spent a few minutes getting her some food – only remembering then that she'd said she was hungry. He took in the food and arranged the tray on her lap – all the while still not looking at the baby, who was lying beside her on the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

She shrugged and her eyes filled with tears. "Okay – I feel fine."

He closed his eyes and swore softly to himself. What the hell was he doing? He gingerly sat beside her on the bed and reached out and touched her gently on the cheek. "I'm so sorry love. I'm – I'll deal with it, I promise. We're both tired is all. Why don't you sleep."

"The baby?" she hiccupped.

He sighed. "Don't worry – I'll watch him. You just go to sleep."

"You need to sleep too."

"I will, don't worry. I'm just not quite ready. Please Teresa – just rest. Everything will be fine."

"How can it be?" she whispered as she closed her eyes and turned away from him, her arm gently placed over top of the tightly swaddled child.

Jane felt the tears gather in his own eyes as he watched the woman he loved – the mother of his child, fall asleep. He had to get a handle on this – couldn't let things go or it would only get worse.

With a deep breath he allowed his eyes to move over to his sleeping son – looking at his tiny body and the face, which reminded him so much of his daughter.

It was interesting, he thought, with a slight feeling of relief, but the baby didn't look as much like Charlotte when he was sleeping. It must have something to do with the eyes, he thought. Right now he looked more like Lisbon than like her.

He continued to study his son – the tiny child sleeping so peacefully by his mother. He felt himself begin to relax as he looked at this new life. He watched as the baby's mouth quivered and then puckered in his sleep. He must be dreaming of dinner, Jane thought, and he began to smile. "That's my boy," he said softly.

And it was true – this was his son, his child – his and Teresa's. Together they'd made a baby, an innocent little boy who only needed to be loved.

He took a deep breath, feeling a stab of pain somewhere around his heart. This wouldn't be easy but he had to start sometime and now was as good as any. He couldn't let his fear defeat him and he couldn't let this go on any longer. With another breath he stood, being careful not to wake his wife, and walked around to the other side of their bed. And then, even though his heart was beating so fast it almost jumped from his chest, he leaned over and gently picked up the tiny child.

His hands were shaking, so he was extra careful. He swallowed as he looked down at and then made his way slowly to the rocking chair in the corner. He sat down and arranged the baby carefully in the crook of his arm. He then began to rock.

He concentrated on simply relaxing and letting the peace of the night wash over him. He tried not to think about anything – anything at all. For a while he didn't even look down – he simply held the soft, warm bundle and rocked.

But soon memories started to seep in – memories of sitting like this with his daughter, holding her, rocking her. He remembered telling her stories, even when she was too young to understand. He closed his eyes and thought of her – his little girl whom he had loved with all his heart.

And he'd lost her. She was gone now – and he never would be able to hold her again. He would never feel her arms around him, or hear her say how much she loved him. Never again would he tell her how much he loved her.

Then he frowned. No – he would tell her. He would _keep_ telling her he loved her, even if she couldn't hear him. He blinked suddenly and looked down. And there was his son.

It dawned on him suddenly. He _could_ hold _this_ child. He _would_ be able to tell him stories, _would_ be able to feel his arms around him, _would_ be able to hear him say that he loved him – but that would only happen if he accepted him – accepted that he had a responsibility to be here for him, to care for him and to love him.

But what if something happened? What if he did something stupid again and he lost this child? Would he survive?

Probably not, he acknowledged. But could he live and _not_ love his son? What would that accomplish? Would his child be safer or better off if he wasn't around?

No – of course not, he acknowledged. He heard a soft sound and looked down – and couldn't help but grin. The baby's mouth had opened in a big yawn.

"Why are you so tired?" he asked the baby softly. "It's your Mommy who did all the work." Of course that didn't mean anything to the baby, but he seemed to like being spoken to – his eyes, still bleary and unfocused, seemed to settle on his father.

"Hi there," Jane whispered. "Are you getting hungry? No? Well then, let's just sit here quietly and let Mommy sleep. She needs it you know. She worked really hard to bring you into the world."

The baby blinked and yawned again and then his little fist once more found his mouth. Jane smiled and lifted his finger and gently stroked the downy soft cheek.

"Can I tell you a story little man?" his father said softly. "Let me tell you about your big sister Charlotte. She looked just like you – except she didn't have any hair when she was born. Not like you – you have dark hair just like your Mommy."

Jane continued to talk, telling his son stories of his big sister, of when she was a little girl. Soon the baby's eyes began to droop and then he was fast asleep, held safely in the loving arms of his father.

Jane continued to look at him, his voice fading – along with the fear and the guilt and the sadness. It was as if speaking of Charlotte had allowed him to – not let go – but rather to accept his feelings of love for both his daughter, and now his son.

He knew there would be tough times ahead – but he could deal with them. He'd learned to live with the sadness inside of himself – but it had long been covered in a veil of hope and love. Teresa had been responsible for that and now his son completed the process.

For the first time, since that moment in the hospital when he'd held his son, he felt a wash of joy so complete he didn't know quite what to do.

Tears once again fell – this time onto the child. They were not tears of sadness or despair but of atonement and peace. They were also an anointing, a blessing on this child who was so completely loved.

Jane lifted the tiny baby and laid his cheek against that of this, his greatest joy. "I love you son," he whispered. "And I'll be here for you, I promise."

Teresa watched from the bed, tears of her own falling down her cheeks. The heartache she'd felt died down and happiness – and relief – took its place.

"Hey – Daddy, don't you think it's time to go to bed?" she called quietly.

Jane looked up – and smiled. He then carefully stood and walked over to the bed and sat down beside Teresa. "He's beautiful," he said softly and then he leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss.

"Yes, he is," Teresa answered with a smile. "He looks like you."

"No – he looks like his sister and his mother," he said, and then he grinned. "Although I'm sure he'll be as charming as me."

Teresa rolled her eyes and snorted. "Probably more like as _irritating_ as you. Now get your pajamas on and get to bed. You have to save your energy because you have a child to look after – and a wife."

"I do, don't I?" he answered, his face becoming serious. "I'm the luckiest man in the world, you know." With that he leaned over and gave his wife another kiss – one of both gratitude and love. He then handed her the baby so that he could get ready for bed.

Soon Patrick and Teresa were sound asleep, the baby lying carefully between them. A few minutes later and the baby's eyes suddenly opened – and his face began to pucker. He was hungry and he was about to let his presence be known.

The joys of parenthood had begun for the Jane's.


End file.
